“What are you, twelve?” Madison gave him her best glare and pretended to accept the beer reluctantly, but inside her heart was beating wildly. He had wanted her to follow him . . .
Oh, my
.
4
Top-shelf
“S
hhh!” Jason leaned over and said in her ear, “Yeah, I’m only twelve, but don’t let on to the bartender. I wanna get served.” Damn, she smelled good, and when a whisper-soft lock of her hair brushed against his lips and trailed across his cheek, it was all he could do not to kiss her sweet little neck.
“Drinking at twelve?” Madison whispered back. “Oh, yeah, I forgot that I’m back in Kentucky.”
“Right.” Jason nodded toward her Bud Light. “Guess you’d rather be drinking an import.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or better yet, a perfect martini.”
After shrugging out of her pink jacket she took a little sip and then wrinkled her nose but failed to comment.
“And hanging out with men in Italian loafers instead of work boots,” he leaned in and said partially to get her goat but mostly to make it look as if they were flirting. It didn’t go unnoticed on his part that every guy in the place was giving Maddie the once-over, and he wanted to give the distinct impression that she was with him. “Pop a squat, Maddie.” He stood up and offered her his seat and then draped his arm across her back and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “So, am I right?”
“Yes, a dirty martini would hit the spot right about now.”
“Really? No problem.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes as she drew out the word and gave him an incredulous look. “Like that’s going to happen.”
Jason shrugged and pretended to buy Maddie’s uppity attitude, but in reality he was more onto her than she knew. She couldn’t even pull off a believable glare. That didn’t mean she didn’t get under his skin . . .
Oh, no.
The snooty little spitfire could make him mad as a hornet in nothing flat, but damned if she didn’t turn him on at the very same time. And Jason knew that she felt a hot spark too, but what ticked him off was that she fought the attraction so hard, making him wonder how she would treat him if he was in a fancy-ass suit in an upscale lounge spittin’ some game at her instead of at Sully’s in work pants. That mere thought made him angry as hell, and yet all he wanted to do was kiss her like crazy.
“Damn,” he unintentionally growled out loud.
“What?” She shot him a curious frown.
He ran a hand down his face. “Damn . . . um, I’m hungry. You? Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re not.”
She lifted one delicate shoulder, dislodging his arm, but he got her back by letting his hand slowly slide over her skin. “I could eat.”
“Are you up for some wings?”
“Sure.” She tipped her longneck up, put her tongue on the bottle, and then took a real swig.
Jason watched, remembering how her warm, soft lips felt next to his, and he had to swallow a groan. Who would have thought he could be jealous of a beer bottle? “Do you . . .” he began, but when she licked the moisture from her mouth he lost his train of thought and focused on her tongue. “Hot . . .” he said out loud as well but managed to keep the
damn
in his head. What in the world was this girl doing to him?
“Oh, hot. Definitely hot.”
“Excuse me?”
“The wings, Jason. I like mine hot, too.” She tilted her head and gave him a curious stare. “That’s what you meant, right?”
“Right. Yeah, the wings.” Jason turned and motioned for the bartender. “Hey, Pete, we need twenty hot wings, celery with blue cheese—oh, yeah, and a dirty martini. Chill the glass first,” he requested and ignored Maddie’s startled expression.
Pete, who was a dead ringer for Charlie Daniels, ambled over to Jason. “Like I wouldn’t do that. Whadaya take me for?” He held up a delicate martini glass, added one ice cube and some water. “In the freezer for exactly three minutes.” He looked at Madison and arched a bushy eyebrow. “Beefeater, Tanqueray, or Bombay Sapphire? I don’t make a martini with nothin’ but top-shelf, so don’t ask for nothin’ else.”
Jason turned to Madison, who simply blinked at Pete. “What? You
did
want a dirty martini, didn’t you?”
“He—I—” She glanced at Jason and then nodded. “Y-yes.” After taking a breath, she turned back to Pete and raised her chin. “Bombay Sapphire, please.”
“Excellent choice, if I do say so my damned self,” Pete commented in his gruff voice and nodded so vigorously that his beard swayed back and forth.
“Shaken gently, three times,
with
the olive.” Madison smiled and held up three fingers.
Pete winked at her. “A girl after my own heart.” He placed a hand on his chest and then nodded at Jason. “Whadaya doin’ with this here fella, anyways?”
“Good question,” Madison answered and then laughed. Jason loved seeing this side of her and wished she could let her guard down and be this way more often.
Pete jammed his thumb toward his chest. “You could do better, if ya know what I’m sayin’?”
Madison gave him a flirty grin. “I know just what you’re saying.”
“You’re about to get an ass whuppin’, Pete Sully,” Jason warned him.
“Yeah? You and what army?” Pete scoffed and then flexed a muscle for Madison. “I can take that pipsqueak with one hand tied behind my back,” he said with a wink. “Your drink will be coming right up, sugar. Can’t rush perfection,” he added over his wide shoulders and then turned to begin mixing her martini.
“You can pick your jaw up off the floor,” Jason said in her ear.
Madison tilted her head and smiled. “I have to admit that I never expected to be served a martini here.” She looked around at the crowded bar but saw mostly longnecks and shot glasses. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Absolutely.” Jason spotted a free booth in the far corner, tugged Madison to her feet, and grabbed her jacket. “Hey, Pete, we’re going to snag a booth. Bring me another beer with the wings and Maddie’s martini.” He ignored her elbow to his side for calling her Maddie.
“Sure thing,” Pete replied as he poured the gin into the shaker.
“Follow me.” Jason liked the feel of her small hand in his grasp as he led her over to a rather secluded booth. He nodded to people he knew, but didn’t stop to shoot the bull. All he was interested in was getting Maddie to open up and laugh with him. If she would only do that, hopefully more would come later.
They slid into a booth with deep red vinyl-covered cushions and a high wooden back, giving them a bit of privacy. A checkered tablecloth and a fat flickering candle gave the atmosphere a romantic feel . . . or perhaps it wasn’t Sully’s bar but being with Maddie that made the air crackle with pent-up passion. Jason stretched out his long legs and bumped knees with Maddie. When her eyes widened slightly, he said, “Sorry,” even though he wasn’t.
“No problem,” she answered, but she suddenly seemed flustered, making Jason wonder if she would ever let her guard down enough to give him a fighting chance.
A moment later Pete wove his way through the crowd toward them, carrying a longneck in one hand and a martini in the other. “Here you go, sugar.” He presented the glass to her with a flourish and then unceremoniously set Jason’s beer down with a thump.
“I see how I rate,” Jason mumbled. “Trying to steal my girl . . . gonna whup my ass.” He sighed and took a long pull on his beer.
“Thank you, Pete,” Madison said and gave the big bartender a warm smile. She took a sip and then nodded slowly before taking another taste.
Jason almost laughed at the expectant expression on Pete’s face. He took a swig of his beer and watched Maddie tip her head to the side and frown. He thought it was sweet of her to make such a big deal of judging the martini but would never let her know it or she would likely bite his head off.
“Well?” Pete finally prompted.
Madison raised her eyebrows. “Did you know that my mother, Jessica Robinson, was a chef at a four-star restaurant in Chicago known for excellent martinis?”
“Is that right?” Pete shook his head and looked a bit nervous. In all the times Jason had come in Sully’s he couldn’t remember Pete ever appearing unsure of himself. Jason wanted to ask him for his man card. “Guess you’ve had a few, then.”
“Now and then.” Madison admitted, but then she gave him a big smile that did crazy things to Jason’s gut. She held up her glass. “But I have to tell you that
this
dirty martini is perfection, Pete. Supercold and mixed with just the right amount of olive juice. And I can tell that you shook the ingredients with a tender hand. Excellent!” She kissed her fingertips to her mouth.
“Really?” Pete asked.
Madison took another sip and nodded. “Absolutely, no doubt in my mind. And I’m a straight shooter.”
“Just like your aunt Myra. Gotta love that.” Pete beamed with pride. “Well, then, I’ll have to bring you another one on the house. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
Madison grinned and held up her index finger. “One martini is all right. Two is too many—”
“And three is not enough,” Pete finished for her. “James Thurber.”
Madison gently set her glass down, stood up on tiptoe, and gave Pete a hug, making the big bartender actually blush. “Now you’re talking.” She was still chuckling when Pete walked away. “I love it when somebody is totally different from how they appear.” She took another sip of her drink and asked, “Don’t you?”
“Not always,” Jason replied with a grin.
“Well . . . true,” she admitted. “Or it can be a good thing.”
“What I do appreciate is when someone is simply themselves. No bull, no pretense,” he commented. “How about you?”
“Of course,” she agreed, but her smile faded and she looked down at the table and toyed with the stem of the glass.
Jason wanted to reach across the table, cover her hand with his, and say, “You can let your guard down and be yourself with me.” But instead he cleared his throat and said, “You want to know the story behind martinis here at Sully’s?”
“Yes.” Her smile returned and she nodded. “I love these sorts of stories.”
Jason waited while a busboy placed a basket of wings in front of them. As he put a few of them on a small plate, he said, “During the boating season Cricket Creek Marina gets a wide range of boats, from runabouts to cabin cruisers.”
Madison nodded as she gingerly bit into a hot wing.
“Well—and I was here when it happened—this dude wearing khakis and a boating hat, no less, comes waltzing in here and asks for a martini. After Pete made one for him, this dude turned up his nose and told Pete it was the worst damned martini he had ever had in his entire life and stomped out.”
“That jerk!”
Jason took a swig of his beer and laughed. “Pete was so pissed. It was like watching an angry grizzly bear.”
“Let me guess—after that, Pete Sully was on a martini mission?” Madison dipped a celery stick in the blue cheese and looked at Jason.
“Oh, yeah. Pete has his pride. The food here is good. The beer is always ice cold and the drinks stiff. And although the place isn’t fancy, it’s clean as a whistle and the staff is pleasant and efficient.”
“Like Aunt Myra’s diner,” Madison said with a nod. “And I actually think there’s a lot of atmosphere here too. That’s why I want this town to come back, Jason. I have nothing against national chains, but small pubs and local diners have so much heart, you know?” She looked at him with honesty in her big blue eyes. “I joke about wanting to return to Chicago, and I do miss the city, but I never forget that Aunt Myra and Cricket Creek took us in.” She laughed and said, “I was told that I was quite a handful.”
“Really?” Jason leaned back and put a look of mock surprise on his face. “Hard to believe.”
“Mom said that the saying
It takes a village
was coined with me in mind.” Madison smiled, but then pressed her lips together as if suppressing emotion.
This time Jason couldn’t stop himself. He reached over and covered her small hand with his. “Let me guess—that’s why you want this play to be a huge success. Bring in tourists this summer and save the community center.” He watched her swallow hard and she finally nodded.
“God, yes. Olivia and I are so excited, but anxious too,” she replied in a husky tone that hit him hard in his gut. “Keeps me up at night,” she admitted, but then she inhaled a quick breath. “And if you breathe a word to anyone I’ll hunt you down.”
“I won’t,” Jason promised and gave her hand a squeeze. When she tried to pull away, he held on firmly. “Maddie, you can call me . . . bend my ear any time of the day or night, and I won’t tell a soul. Got that?”
Madison nodded. Jason’s big hand felt so warm and reassuring, and when he rubbed his thumb over her skin a shot of pure longing hit her with more punch than the martini. She looked into those hazel eyes that seemed to change color with his mood and saw understanding and caring. “Yes, I get that loud and clear. Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome, Maddie.” Jason’s concern chipped away at the cold, hard wall of solid independence that she hid behind, and even though it was a scary feeling Madison let a few pieces fall away and scatter like leaves on an autumn day. “Now, I want you to do one more thing for me.” He held up his index finger and gave her a hopeful smile.
“You mean there’s more?” She rolled her eyes and drained the last sip of her martini. “Just like Olivia, there’s always more. Okay, what?” she asked in her kick-ass Madison voice, but inside she felt warm and wonderful and by the look on Jason’s face she wasn’t really pulling it off anyway.
“I want you to just relax and let your hair down tonight.”
“Unreal.” Madison leaned back in the booth and chuckled.
“What?”
“I just gave Olivia the very same advice earlier today. Am I really that uptight?” She hated to think so.
“No.” Jason shook his head slowly. “Not uptight exactly, but guarded. And I think you know it.” He looked at her for a long moment and then lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. That simple gesture made her breath catch, and she felt more pieces of her protective wall crumble away. But instead of feeling exposed, she looked into his eyes and felt a sense of freedom overtake her.